


Days of Cheer

by ConstantlyTiredReader



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyTiredReader/pseuds/ConstantlyTiredReader
Summary: Stretch and Edge celebrate the holiday season.
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney
Comments: 158
Kudos: 54





	1. Ugly Sweaters

**Author's Note:**

> All the prompts come from [keelywolfe](https://keelywolfe.tumblr.com/)'s [12 Days of Cheer!](https://keelywolfe.tumblr.com/post/189551014253/12-days-of-cheer) list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Ugly Sweaters  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: mild language, fluff, clothing shopping can be a real adventure sometimes

“For the last time: no. Absolutely not.”

“but _edge_ ,” Stretch pleads, drawing out his name until he has to stop and take another breath to continue, “don’t you want everyone to know that we’re a couple?”

 _Always_. However… “There are other ways to do so.” Before Stretch can even think about placing the atrocities into the cart, Edge removes them from his person. In respect of the store personnel, he doesn't destroy them, as much as tempting as it is. “Besides, I’m pretty sure our brothers and Sans and Papyrus have figured out by this point that we’re dating.” If they hadn’t, that would raise a lot of questions, considering the number of times each of them has witnessed Edge making out with Stretch. “And considering that’s who we will be spending the holidays with, these… _things_ are rather unnecessary.”

“imagine the pictures though!”

Edge suppresses the urge to shudder in the middle of the department store. “That’s exactly the problem, love.”

In his life, Edge has seen a great deal of unpleasant things. Gift shopping with his boyfriend was supposed to be a time free from all that, with the most unpleasant thing being the insanity of shoppers with the holidays approaching. That idea was ruined the moment the two of them stepped foot into the store and Stretch set his eye lights on the clothing section. 

The worst part is, Edge _knew_ it was going to happen. He had glanced at the online flyer before heading out. There was an entire page devoted to those eyesores. Somehow, the humans showcasing the product — as loathe as he is to call it as such — manage to smile cheerfully, as though they are genuinely pleased by their choice of outfit. Truly, they must be excellent actors. The point is, it was obvious that Stretch would be charmed by the terrible things, and it was only a matter of time before he begged Edge with those near impossible to resist eye lights and syrupy sweet words.

Thankfully, near impossible isn’t the same as entirely impossible. He still has a bit of resistance, which increases the more the woolen hideousness burns his sockets.

“fine. no his and his ‘when i think of you i touch my elf’ sweaters,” Stretch sighs in resignation. “but what about these ones?”

Stars above, help him.

“Stretch.” Feeling a migraine coming on, he tiredly rubs at his forehead. “I love you, but in what world is _that_ supposed to be better?”

“well…”

“Put it back.”

“spoilsport.”

Temporarily, Edge earns himself a reprieve from those awful fucking sweaters — which are a new form of torture he had never experienced in his home universe — by the good fate of a sales associate deciding to set up a nearby sample station. The promise of Christmassy goodies is enough to herd his boyfriend away from the clothing department.

For now. 

The thing is, there is no escaping the ugly sweater section. In order to check out, they have to pass by once more. And this time, there are no more free samples to serve as a distraction. The only excuse Edge has is the need to pay for the gifts and groceries in their cart, and even he can’t deny that they aren’t under any time restraints to do so. 

That’s why when Stretch eagerly pulls away from the cart, Edge has no choice but to follow along into the jungle of gaudy reds and greens and tinsels.

“okay,” Stretch says as he shuffles through hangers, “so i get that the punny ones are a no-go.” 

“That’s an understatement.” Of course, it doesn’t help that all the puns on the first several sweaters were crude. In honour of the holiday spirit, Edge would be willing to allow a festive pun or two; consider it as an early present of sorts for Stretch. But when he accounts for all that and then adds in the fact that he has already seen far too many replications of Santa Claus in various stages of undress, he would have to say that there are yet a few more items he is unwilling to consider. 

“yeah, yeah. but will you at least try some of the other ones? _please?_ " He already has a stack of sweaters in hand and this time, he is putting extra effort into his pleading, keeping his eyes wide and seemingly innocent. At this point, Edge wouldn’t put it past him to form some lips for the sole purpose of sticking out his bottom one to pout.

Not that Stretch needed to. If it will make him happy, the least Edge can do is try a few on.

Taking the pile from Stretch, he delivers a quick kiss to his cheek. “Where’s the dressing room?”

This entire ordeal will be worth it if only for the way Stretch’s face lights up as soon as he processes the question.

* * *

“how’s it going in there?”

Edge grimaces as he adjusts the hemline of the newest sweater. “Are you wanting me to answer truthfully?”

Because truthfully? This is worse than he could have ever expected.

He was a fool to believe that the awfulness of the sweaters lay only in the designs. Yes, those are still terrible, but it is nothing compared to what he knows now.

The real problem lies in the texture. Edge isn’t exactly sure what difference there is between the materials of his own sweaters and what Stretch handed him to try on. These are all scratchy and uncomfortable, each one catching on his scars as the fabric shifts around. A sweater knit of steel wool would likely be just as comfortable. Actually, now that he takes a good look in the mirror, the metallic designs covering the entirety of this one probably is just steel wool.

“i mean, that would be nice, but based on that, i think i can guess the answer.” Stretch sound fondly resigned, as though he was expecting this to be the case. 

“I’m sorry.”

“what?” 

Half a second later, Stretch knocks on the dressing room door. Unlocking it to let him in, Edge resists the urge to rip the sweater off his body. As long as he doesn’t move, he shouldn’t notice the discomfort. 

Stretch, however, does notice. “oh babe, let’s get you out of this.” 

Once the door is closed behind the both of them, the already small dressing room becomes even more claustrophobic. Edge’s back is nearly pressed against the mirror on the wall as Stretch works on pulling the sweater off of him. “Careful,” he hisses, wool snagging on one of the more jagged scars of his left scapula.

“oh, shit. sorry.”

“It’s fine.” That was the last of the sweaters, anyways. 

“is it?” Stretch asks, tossing it aside to wrap his arms around him. “you should’ve told me.”

Resting his head on Stretch’s shoulder, he says, “I know.”

“do you feel up to trying one more thing? you don’t have to, but this one’s different. i promise.”

Indeed it is. The moment Edge runs his hands against the green embellished with row after row of carefully stitched ornaments, he can tell. This feels more like a soft blanket than an actual sweater, smooth and warm. Stretch gives him enough space to tug it on, turning around to look at himself in the mirror. It is undeniably tacky, although still the most tasteful of everything else he has tried on today. The silvery tinsel has been sewn on top as an additional layer, adding dimension while taking away from the scratchiness. And even he cannot help but smile in amusement when Stretch reaches over to press a small button in the collar, causing all the strings of lights to blink rhythmically.

“what do you think?”

Edge turns back around to give Stretch one more hug. “I think this one can go in the cart.”

“great!” He wiggles free, grabbing the neat pile of rejects. “just wait until you see what i got for me. it’s really something.”

Quickly, Edge changes back into his normal shirt. There are no doubts in his mind that Stretch has found something unique and so entirely _him_. “I can't wait.”

And even if the sweater itself is ugly, Edge is sure that Stretch will find a way to make it look beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every year, my mom wants to buy herself an ugly Christmas sweater. Every year, it's an ordeal because the sweaters she finds are too crude for her tastes and/or will drive her crazy because her skin is insanely sensitive. There is no winning.
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	2. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Family  
> Rating: T  
> Other tags/warnings: mild language, found family, fluff, implied Kustard, mild suggestive content

From his spot on the couch, Stretch turns up the music on the tv, making it easier for Blue to sing and dance to as he continues food prep. Unsurprisingly, his brother has placed a ban on him being in the kitchen until clean up, although it’s no skin off his nose. Which, of course, is a good thing considering he has no skin nor nose to spare. 

That, actually, is the joke that became the final straw, resulting in Blue physically shoving him out to the living room. For old times sake, he had used some good old gravity magic to weigh himself down, much to Blue’s irritation. But hey, Stretch is still the older brother; he has to pull this kind of sibling annoyance sometimes. As he used to say when Blue was a babybones, it’s a part of a contract all older brothers have to sign. 

These days, Blue just calls him out and says that his allergy to responsibility would have prevented him from signing anything. Which, _true_ , even if Stretch can garner a bit of responsibility just for him. Next time he goes shopping, he should pick some antihistamines, just to really sell the joke for the next time Blue catches him being a responsible adult.

“smells good, bro,” he calls out as the end of Jingle Bells trails off into a new song.

“Thank you!” Blue replies with the same joyful pride that used to proceed his speeches of being the Magnificent Sans, future member of the Royal Guard. Stretch can imagine him making the pose right now, spatula in hand. “But you’re still not going to ‘taste test’. You can wait until the others all get here.”

Eh, still worth a shot. At least ninety-eight percent sure of the answer, Stretch asks, “are you sure there’s nothing you want me to do to help in there?”

“Absolutely! You just stay there and be a good host, okay Papy?”

“got it.”

With that, Stretch flops back down. Out of the corner of his eye, the lights of their Gyftmas tree sparkle, casting interesting reflections as they bounce off the shiny wrapping paper and ribbons decorating all the presents under it. 

These days, there are more presents than ever, a fun consequence of how their family has grown. Sure, Stretch and Blue have technically been in this universe with the others for a while now, but this year is different.

First of all, him and Edge are solidly a thing now, which is fun. When he thinks back to their first year here, Stretch recalls how he didn’t even try getting him a present. Let alone one he would enjoy. And as far as he was concerned, the only gift he needed from Edge was not to become another casualty to his LV, unlikely as it would have been. 

Yeah. That wasn’t exactly the best time for them. The point is, Edge and him are _very_ close now, and the amount of hoodies Stretch has left at his house serve as proof to that. 

Another natural consequence of their relationship is that it makes Red his honorary bro, as terrifying as that idea is. But Red takes care of his own, and it’s crystal clear that Stretch and Blue are included among the ranks.

And of course, there are Sans and Papyrus. Stretch would be hard-pressed not to include them into the brotherhood of multiversal skelebros. The bro club, if you will. After spending so many weeks with all six of them squished into their house, there were some definite bonding activities. Some less than pleasant to think about now, like all the times they had to physically separate him and Edge, but hey; it was still bonding.

Speaking of Sans and Papyrus, the enthusiastic knocking at the door and loud rebuttal of “no, I refuse to participate in one of your poor attempts at door-related comedy, brother,” can only belong to one person.

Rolling off the couch, he takes a shortcut to the entrance and opens the door. “c’mon in paps. you too, sans.”

Sans says something in response — probably a pun — but Stretch can’t make it out. Not when Papyrus has lifted him up into a rib crushing hug, greeting him as loudly as ever. “Hello, Lazy-me! It’s nice to see you again!”

“you too, buddy,” he says with a wheeze. Papyrus takes the hint, letting him go and following through with a quick pulse of healing magic. It wasn’t necessary, but Stretch appreciates the consideration.

From the sidelines, Sans holds up a glass pan covered in tinfoil and a tub of vanilla ice cream. “yo, where should i put the dessert?”

“just bring it to the kitchen and blue’ll deal with it. i find it’s best not to mess with his system.”

“gotcha.” 

Papyrus snatches the food from his brother like some kind of sports ball player, charging forward. “I’ll take care of this, and leave you two lazybones to do whatever lazybones do.”

“well, generally speaking, we tend to laze around like a pile of bones.” Sans holds out a hand to high five as Papyrus departs with an exaggerated noise of disgust. Stretch, however, knows better; he avoids the hidden whoopie cushion by going for a fist bump. “you ready to show him how to be a real couch bonetato?”

“what do you think i’ve been doing all afternoon?”

“well,” another voice chimes in, “considerin’ the lack of house fires, you sure ain’t been cooking, thank fuck.”

Stretch turns around, just in time to see Edge lightly cuff Red on the head. “You’re one to talk, brother.”

“yeah, and who kept ya fed when you were a useless little babybones?”

“The people who actually made the food you ‘obtained,’” Edge mutters under his breath. Ignoring Red’s grumbling and upraised middle fingers, he draws Stretch close into his arms. Softly, just above a whisper, he says, “I missed you.”

“we saw each other yesterday,” Stretch laughs, but he doesn’t dispute him. Especially not when it seems that Edge is determined to prove to him how much he was missed with a nice greeting kiss. 

A _very_ nice kiss.

A very nice kiss that is promptly ruined by Sans’ wolf whistles in the background and Red’s gagging. 

“ugh, why do ya hafta be so gross right in front of my own two eyes?”

Edge pulls back but keeps his arms tightly wrapped around Stretch, rolling his eyes. “Oh, hush. I could have said the same thing about the scene I came home to last Thursday.” Red ducks his head and beside him, Sans’ face turns bright blue. Interesting. Very interesting. Stretch will need to look into that later. Relentlessly, Edge continues, “I’m still expecting you to clean the carpet, by the way. You made the mess, so you get to clean it up.”

“ _boss_. i get it.”

With his brow raised — and a hint of a smug grin that tells Stretch that he is enjoying the hell out of his brother’s current torment — Edge archly asks, “Do you?”

Before any more retorts can be made, Blue pops out of the kitchen. He is barely visible under the mountain of food he is carrying. “Edge, do you think you could help with the drinks? I’ve got Papyrus busy with the salad right now.”

“Of course.” He gives Stretch one more kiss — although it is definitely a lot quicker than the last one — and hustles off to help. 

Well, this seems as good of an opportunity as any.

Stretch doesn’t wait a second before shortcutting right beside Red and slinging an arm around his shoulder. For basically anyone outside of their little family, that is a move that could and would result in a bite from shark tooth McGee. Some days, that isn’t even a guarantee from a trip to a healer, but the gremlin must be in a good mood today.

“sans, huh?”

“shut up unless ya want me to make ya.”

Yeah, that was pretty much the response Stretch had been expecting, minus some of the heat that kind of statement from Red usually garners. Good to see the holiday cheer impacting even the scroogiest members of his family.

No amount of holiday cheer is going to stop him from going to Edge for blackmail on Red and Sans, though. He still needs to get them back for last year’s mistletoe incident, after all.

Soon, the younger brothers finish getting dinner ready, which is Stretch’s cue to lower the volume of the ongoing festive music. Sitting around the table, Edge holding his hand to his left, Blue dishing out food at his right and Papyrus across from him with Sans and Red punning — or maybe flirting — around him, Stretch feels perfectly at home. Granted, it isn’t the home where he spent most of his life, and he has only known the monsters around the table for a few years.

But this? 

This is better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	3. Ice Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Ice Skating  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: mild emotional hurt/comfort, lack of communication, fluff

So… this whole skating with his boyfriend thing was supposed to be a lot cuter than this.

Stretch’s plan was to live his best Hallmark movie life out on the rink. Bundled up nice and cozy, he and Edge should have been holding hands, gliding leisurely as fluffy snowflakes float down to the ground. At some point, they should have spun around in the middle of the ice, slowing down to share a kiss as others pass by. Maybe something would happen that would cause them to tumble into a snowbank, rolling around playfully. If he felt like being a brat, he could shove a handful of snow down the back of Edge’s shirt, just to see what would happen next. Then, they could go share some hot cocoa on one of the nearby benches. Stretch could snuggle close into Edge’s strong protective arms and try to catch snowflakes on his tongue and it would just be a wonderful day out.

Needless to say, his plan was thwarted by the fact that Edge apparently doesn’t understand the concept of recreational ice skating.

Don’t get it wrong, Edge is a fantastic skater. Actually, it’s kinda hot, seeing the precise control he has, the sharp turns he makes at terminal velocity. Normally, Stretch would feel fine and dandy to sit back and watch his boyfriend go. Normally.

But today, that’s not really what he was wanting.

Ice skating, as he learned on their way here, was something of a necessity for all Snowdin residents to know how to do in Underfell. Sure, pretty much everyone could skate in Stretch’s Snowdin too, but the stakes were a lot lower. In Underswap, the worst thing that can happen if a monster doesn’t know how to skate is that they miss out on some community events and fall on their ass a lot. In Underfell, though, the skill seems to have been the difference between life and death. The faster someone could get away without slipping and falling, the better. Additionally, Edge had explained, it provided good training. Instead of playing games of hockey and ringette, he would wake up early and do warmups of target practice on the ice.

Right now, for example, Edge is doing laps around the rink. He has been doing laps for at least five minutes. Round and round and round the ice, each time he passes Stretch in a flurry of motion.

The thing is, before coming here today, Stretch would have said he was pretty good at skating. He can do a few nifty tricks, and that’s not even including the special ability to shortcut away from oncoming collisions. He hasn’t even fallen once, which is more than can be said of a lot of the other people on the ice today.

Compared to Edge, though? Wow. Stretch has got a lot to learn.

The next time he loops around, Edge miraculously comes to a stop, skates shaving up a small tsunami of ice. He takes Stretch’s hands between his own, and Stretch can feel the warmth through his gloves. “Are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” he says. Part of him wants to glide a little closer, eliminating any distance between them so he can cuddle close and stay near that warmth for the rest of the afternoon. That’s probably a little much, though. Instead, he settles for a chilly kiss, closing his eyes as he relaxes into it. Stretch ends it sooner than he would like to say, “i just can’t keep up to a speed demon like you.”

Edge blinks, his eye lights slightly fuzzy. Then, completely sincere, he suggests, “I could help you.”

_ Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! _ That’s the perfect way to bring this back to the peak of cheesy romance! Because, face it: that’s the real reason Stretch is here today.

With what he hopes passes for coyness, he says, “sure. i’d like that a lot.”

“All right.” Edge looks around and for a moment, Stretch thinks he is going to offer his hand. “Let’s go over there; it’s less crowded.”

“sounds good.”

Sounds good is right, because in application, it ends up being not quite there.

Somehow, there has been a misfire of communication, and Edge takes the fact that Stretch can’t keep up to Olympic worthy speed as Stretch not knowing how to skate fast. But, hey, on the plus side, he would have never expected his boyfriend to try and teach him the principles behind aerodynamics. That was a fun time.

After the impromptu lesson, part of Stretch’s fantasies come true. Sort of. Technically speaking, they are skating together while holding hands. It’s just that holding hands in this case can more accurately be described as Edge keeping a firm grip on his wrists. The whole leisurely aspect is lacking; a more accurate description would be Edge dragging Stretch behind him like a ragdoll that has been sketchily manufactured to add special edition knife feet. 

It is lightly snowing now, though, so there’s that. 

The thrill of zooming around the rink wears off quickly. The moment Edge slows down to a speed more suiting of mere mortals, Stretch coughs to get his attention.

“Are you starting to get the hang of it?”

“sure,” Stretch lies with a grin that doesn’t match the frustration welling up deep in his chest. Edge’s face is flushed from exertion, and there is a sparkle in his eye lights. He is genuinely enjoying himself. Let him continue without Stretch. “i’m gonna go buy a drink.”

Edge doesn’t stop him from tugging his wrist free, nor does he stop him from making his way off the ice. The hurt grows even larger. It isn’t like he didn’t give Edge a chance to go after him; he very purposefully didn’t shortcut away.

Fine. 

Stretch won’t ruin his fun. Let Edge skate around as much as he wants. Stretch can just sit on the bench, left alone to wallow in his own misery.

It’s fine.

Yeah, and pigs can fly.

Pointedly not watching his boyfriend, Stretch decides to observe a hockey game that has set up in a corner of the ice. Most of the players are teens, monsters and humans. On a nearby snow bank, there is a small pile of extra sticks, ready for other people to join in. Instead of a traditional puck, they appear to be using a bright orange ball. It makes it easier to keep track of the game, in any case.

Three goals later, Stretch can hear the awkward shuffling of skates on snow behind him. The shuffling ends as a set of familiar arms wrap around him from behind. Even in his sour mood, he can’t help but shuffle closer.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“nothing.”

Edge hums, a sound of disbelief. “Then why are you making that face?”

Damn it. “it’s nothing. i’m just being dumb.”

“You aren’t dumb.” Settling his chin on top of Stretch’s head, Edge whispers, “What’s upsetting you?”

“it’s childish,” he insists, hoping it will convince Edge to let up. Of course, his love is too stubborn to do that. With a sigh, Stretch continues, “i just wanted this whole ice skating thing to be something we did together, you know?”

“We are together, though.”

“yeah, we are. but not  _ together _ together.” Stretch pulls at the ends of his scarf, messing with the tassles. “you know there’s not really much active stuff i like doing, even if it’s with you. but this… skating seemed like it could be the one time i could have fun doing something like that. like, i always enjoyed myself when Blue would convince me to go skating when he was younger.”

“But…” Edge prompts.

“but it’s really hard to have fun when all i’m doing is trying to keep up with you and you don’t even try to do anything but get in as many laps as you can, which would be fine if you were here alone, but not when it’s supposed to be a date,” he says in a rush. Near the end, his voice dwindles out until it’s barely a whisper. Stretch doesn’t even realise he had curled in on himself until Edge moves to sit down beside him and takes him into his arms.

Soothingly, Edge murmurs, “You should’ve told me.”

“didn’t want to ruin your fun.”

“At the expense of ruining yours?” Edge doesn’t give him the chance to refute that, which is probably a good thing. “It doesn’t matter. Now that you’ve told me, do you want to try again, or do you want to go home? Or perhaps a snack break could do us good. You never did go to get yourself a drink.”

“something to eat would be nice,” he admits.

“Then let’s go.”

They walk hand in hand, which helps add a rightness to the situation. It’s a reassurance that Edge will stick to his word.

“hey, edgelord, have you ever played hockey?”

He shakes his head, stepping forward into the concession line. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“well, then i guess i’ll have to show you. i could use someone to be on my team next time blue decides he wants to play, and you’ll be a natural.”

“That sounds like fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	4. Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Santa  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: fluff, sap

“Love, you either need to get better at guiding me or you need to let me take this blindfold off.”

“i said i was sorry,” Stretch protests, tugging Edge to the left a second before he would walk right into a food court garbage bin. Whoops. That would have been especially bad timing. “besides, i don’t want to ruin the surprise. we’re almost there.”

“We had better be,” Edge grumbles halfheartedly under his breath. So much for him being the morning person in their relationship.

“don’t get your tinsel in a twist, babe,” he says, sprinkling another clue into today’s special destination. “i can guarantee this will be a holly jolly time.”

Luckily, there are very few obstacles to maneuver for the rest of the journey through the local shopping mall. True to his word, Stretch gets them to their destination right away. He reaches up, untying the thick scarf he had wrapped around Edge’s head as a blindfold. Last night, he had tested it himself and can confidently say it was the most effective material he could find in the house, short of making Edge walk around in a sleeping mask. And, considering they only have the super cheap ones, it would have been too easy for Edge to sneak a peek. His Underfell boyfriend isn’t the best at the whole surprise thing; there’s a reason Stretch didn’t just have him close his eyes.

Before letting go of the scarf, he shuffles to the side. As much as he wants to drink in Edge’s every reaction, there won’t be much to react to if all he can see is Stretch. “here we go!”

Blinking slowly to acclimate to the harsh fluorescent lighting, Edge looks more puzzled than pleased. “What’s this?”

“it’s exactly what it looks like.” And there are certainly few options on what that could be.

A gate made of giant candy canes is all that blocks them off from their own little corner of the North Pole. Trees decorated with twinkling lights and fake snow guide the path. Hidden from their current view, there are reindeer and elves equipped with tripods and cameras and bowls full of candy canes. In the middle of it all is the man of the hour, waiting patiently on his large red and gold armchair.

Of course, if all that isn’t enough, there’s also the sign to the side which announces Santa’s hours of operation in a nice, easy to read print. Subtlety to its finest, right there.

Either way, it doesn’t take Edge long to put everything together. 

“Why?”

Okay, maybe not _everything_.

“well,” Stretch starts, wanting to word this carefully, “i thought it would be a nice thing.”

Stretch knows Edge has never seen Santa before. To say that his universe was rough would be an understatement. Even if he didn’t have confirmation from Red and Edge, it would be easy to come to the conclusion that neither of them got the chance to sit on Santa’s knee when they were in stripes to tell the big guy what they wanted for Gyftmas. Even if Santa Claus did do his rounds, it would be hard to keep up the holiday cheer. Toys aren’t really the priority when any functional wish would need to be used on staying alive.

So yeah. Add taking Edge to see Santa for the first time to the ever-growing list of ‘things to try and make up for Edge’s crappy Underfell childhood’. Sure, it isn’t the same now; Stretch can confidently say that Edge doesn’t believe in jolly ol’ Saint Nick — especially not the human version — but it’s the principle of the thing.

If the small smile that briefly makes its way onto Edge’s face is any indication, he agrees. Even if he rapidly shifts his expression to appear more stern and intimidating. Stretch knows better. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“isn’t that why you love me?” Stretch asks cheekily before surging forward. “c’mon, i didn’t arrange for a special appointment just to stand and look at the guy.”

Edge’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. An especially tall elf unlocks the gate for them, not bothering to check who they are. Then again, Stretch _did_ inform them that it would be two skeletons coming to see Santa. That’s pretty darn specific.

From the other end of the ‘North Pole’, Santa exclaims, “Ho ho ho! Merry Chri— Gyftmas. Merry Gyftmas.” _Nice save._ “It’s nice to see you, Stretch. And of course, Edge! It’s so good to finally meet you in person.”

Beside him, Edge’s pace falters. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that. Stretch squeezes his hand in reassurance, continuing to guide him along. It’s almost comedic; he, the monster with the low HP, is acting as the protector of the warrior against Santa Claus. But the fact is, it hurts that Edge is so suspicious and guarded because Santa knew his name. As a child, that’s one of the best things about going to see him.

On the plus side, the mood lightens instantly when Edge is asked to go sit on Santa’s knee. It’s really too bad that the photographer elf wasn’t ready; Edge’s horrified expression would have made a fun holiday card.

“it’s okay, edgelord,” Stretch teases, leaning up against a candy cane, “this is the one time i won’t complain about you sitting on another guy’s lap.”

It’s a good thing Stretch was able to get them in before opening hours. He doesn’t want to think of what kind of reaction there would have been if there had been a whole bunch of parents with little kiddos to witness Edge’s particularly rude gesture to that comment. Yay for having connections.

Gingerly, Edge does perch himself on Santa’s knee. Barely. But hey, it counts. To his own credit, Stretch doesn’t laugh when Edge is asked if he has been a good boy this year. The temptation to tease about him having been very naughty is strong, though.

As Santa starts on some generic small talk about his reindeer, Stretch can’t help but think about how _weird_ it is to see him as a human. Even though most media portrays him as one, Santa will always be a big, fuzzy boss monster in his mind.

Although, he does have to admit that there is something a bit more convincing about this guy. It’s probably because his long white beard and jovial baritone voice are both real, unlike the Santa Claus Stretch grew up with. As a kid, he never really questioned why Mr. Santa sounded a lot like the queen. In retrospect, it seems as though the real Santa had disappeared years ago, and Mrs. Claus decided to take up his mantle instead. As to why she couldn’t tell the truth about that instead of masquerading as her husband, Stretch will never know. Maybe she wanted to avoid discrepancies with any human sources that fell into the dumps. Who knows?

A merry laugh breaks Stretch out of his daydreaming. “So, Edge, what exactly are you wanting for Gyftmas this year?”

Edge turns his head to smile directly at Stretch. “I’ve already got everything I want,” he says, never taking his gaze off of him. 

Stretch can feel his cheeks burn hot as Santa laughs once more. “That’s good to hear. Very good. Now, are we ready for the picture?”

A few clicks of the camera later, Stretch is waving goodbye to Santa, thanking him and his elves on their way out. The photographs of him, Edge and Santa are tucked carefully into his inventory, allowing him to eat the candy cane Edge had handed over as soon as he got it.

“I _still_ can’t believe you did this,” Edge says, shaking his head softly.

“in a good way or a bad way?”

“Good way.” Yeah, that's exactly what Stretch thought, but it doesn't hurt to make like Santa and check twice. 

“well, that’s a relief. if it was a bad way, i’m pretty sure i would need to use this candy cane as a shank, and i haven't had nearly enough time to lick it to its full potential.”

“Please,” Edge scoffs with a roll of his eye lights, “as if something like that would be better than any bone attack you could make.”

“whoa, edgelord. never underestimate how brutal of a weapon candy canes can be. in fact, we should buy some so i can prove it to you.”

Dryly, he says, “We should, should we?”

“absolutely!”

“Well, who am I to say no to you?”

With that, the two of them turn into the nearest store with a candy display, a comforting "ho ho ho, merry Gyftmas" still audible in the distance. And as they continue to shop together, Stretch finds he has to agree with Edge; he really does have everything — and more specifically, everyone — he could ever want with him already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	5. Decorating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Decorating  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: fluff, humour, teasing

If there is one question Stretch is too used to hearing from Edge, it’s —

“Now _what_ do you think you’re doing, you brat?”

“decorating,” he coyly replies, grabbing a string of pearls from the box of Gyftmas decorations.

Edge’s voice is flatter than a bottle of soda that has been left open in the fridge for two months. “Decorating.”

“yep,” he agrees cheerfully. “decorating.”

Edge is super serious about his holiday decorating. Can’t start before December, because that is apparently a crime. Angel forbid someone try to convince him to take the boxes out on November 30th because it would be more convenient with their schedules. Nope, that’s not allowed. At what point the decorations must come down are also an important matter, but that doesn’t affect Stretch at the moment; that’s a problem for a later date.

Like all aspects in his life, Edge devotes every iota of effort he possesses in making sure the decorating is done right. Or else. This year, Stretch managed to stop him just short of getting out a ruler to measure the distance between rows of tinsel and lights. In some ways, it can be pretty great; Edge’s trees are the best looking ones he has seen in his life, and Stretch lived in Snowdin, land of the year-round Gyftmas tree. However, he knows that if left to his own resources, Edge could and would work himself into a migraine; hours of staring at blinking lights and tiny details can do that to a person. He would get even less sleep than normal, potentially pulling an all-nighter. That just isn’t something Stretch wants to encourage.

At the center of it all is one primary dilemma: Edge seems to be missing the point that half the fun of decorating is spending time together untangling knots of lights and going crazy with ornaments. 

The first part, at least, should be right up his alley: Stretch stands by the fact that untangling cords of any kind, but _especially_ Gyftmas lights, is the most challenging puzzle to exist in the history of the universe. Edge can have that one all to himself, if he wants. As for the ornaments, well… Stretch had plans to help him with that. 

Step one was to establish the mood. If he wants to break Edge out of his serious little shell — which is honestly stronger than his old suit of armour, for goodness sake — Stretch needs to create a fun environment.

Last week, he convinced Red to tell him about Edge’s favourite holiday songs. And by convinced, of course, he means bribed. There’s a reason why he has had a bottle of specialty mustard burning a hole in his inventory for the past few months, thank you very much.

As for why he had to ask Red in the first place? Well, the guy has known Edge literally all his life. Stretch has only known him for a few years, and for most of that time, they were nowhere near buddy-buddy enough to et to appreciate the other’s tastes in _anything ._ Add the fact that there’s a very limited window as to when it’s acceptable to play holiday music and Stretch really has no clue. For all he knew, Edge could exclusively listen to the soundtracks of Rankin-Bass holiday specials. 

Unsurprisingly, that isn’t actually the case. 

Customised playlist going on in the background, Stretch has done everything else in his power to create a fun and relaxing atmosphere. A bowl of popcorn and a box of mini candy canes sit on the table for any snacking emergencies. He dimmed the lights in the living room and opened the curtains; the sun provides enough light to see what is going on. Plus, there’s something nice and homey about it.

Sometimes, though, desperate times call for desperate measures. Edge isn’t properly relaxed yet — he is too consumed with the need for perfection. 

That’s why while Edge is going all out with decorating the house, Stretch is going all out with decorating Edge.

Edge sighs as Stretch drapes the long rope of pearls around his neck like a scarf. Yet, there is the slightest hint of a smile softening his features as he chides, “Those are supposed to go on the tree.”

“i mean,” Stretch says, looping the end of the strand around again, “you’re tall enough. it counts.”

“You’re taller than me,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing a glass ornament in the shape of a snowflake and ooh, to get Edge to admit that little fact of his own free volition. Gyftmas truly is coming early this year.

Sensing an opportunity, Stretch steps in front of the tree, blocking it. “well, then, i guess i can volunteer as tribute.” He spreads his arms out, putting himself fully on display. “decorate me, babe. decorate me real hard.” To add the cherry on top — or, if he wants to keep with the holiday spirit, the star on top — of everything, Stretch waggles his brows until Edge is helpless to hold back an amused snort.

“Oh, I’ll decorate you all right,” Edge says, a slight, playful growl entering his voice. Oh yes. This is what Stretch was going for. Maybe even better. Edge closes the distance between them, an impish sparkle in his eye lights. Tapping his chin with a gloved finger, he muses, “But where do I start?”

Stretch relaxes his arms, resting them on Edge’s shoulders in a casual embrace. “that’s the question, isn’t it?”

“What I really should do is tie you up —”

“oh yeah, talk dirty to me, babe,”

“— so I can get back to work in peace.” Eh, that’s a little less fun. But, hey, at least Edge is getting closer to the whole enjoyment side of things.

Suddenly, the perfect idea strikes. 

“hey, edge. how about a decorating competition?”

Humming consideringly, he asks, “What kind of competition?” 

Bingo.

“i take these ornaments,” Stretch says, gesturing to half the box, “and you take those ones. first person to get all their little doohickeys on the tree wins.”

“That sounds like a deal.” Faster than anticipated, Edge slides his ornaments to the far side of the tree. “Prepare yourself for defeat.”

“in your dreams,” Stretch laughs. Really, regardless of the outcome of the competition, he feels like the winner here. “on your mark…” 

“Get set…”

“go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	6. Cocoa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Cocoa  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, nostalgia, bittersweet fluff

When Edge wakes up, the bed is empty and the room is dark. Rolling over, his digital alarm clock reveals that it is far too early in the morning for anyone to be up. 

Especially Stretch.

Rubbing tiredly at his sockets, he sits up, determined to discover what is going on. It is unlike his love to wake before him. At least, without waking Edge up right after.

A quick search of the house leads him to the kitchen, brightly lit in contrast to the rest of the house. Stretch slouches in front of the stove, unmoving. “Love?”

Any stillness vanishes as Stretch jumps, shortcutting about an inch away and doing a half turn in his startlement. His eye sockets are too wide for a handful of seconds. Then, as he finally seems to register Edge’s appearance, Stretch whispers, “hi.”

“Hello to you too.” Edge doesn’t know what else to say. He has so many questions right now.

Putting aside the strangeness of Stretch being awake and in the kitchen, there are many, many other things of interest. To start with the obvious, the kitchen smells vaguely of burnt milk and sugar. Every single pot and pan they own is scattered around the counters… and the floor? Their pantry and spice rack has also been gone through rather haphazardly by the looks of it. Finally, there is a stray blanket trailing between the entrance of the kitchen and the oven, abandoned by Stretch at some point. It paints a creative scene, albeit an incomprehensible one.

Actually, there is one more thing of note. How could he possibly forget?

Stretch — and everything around him — is dusted in a light coat of brown. That’s mildly disconcerting. 

Apparently, Stretch notes his confusion. “look, i don’t know either. i couldn’t sleep, so i thought i’d make some hot cocoa… yeah.” He yawns before adding, “sorry.”

Couldn’t sleep? That doesn’t seem right. Looking at him, it is obvious that Stretch is barely awake. In fact, he looks like he could pass out on the floor, then and there, no questions asked. 

However, there is certainly more than that. Broken out of his stupor, he is now incredibly jittery, phalanges clacking noisily in the relative quiet of the house. His eye lights are off, simultaneously fuzzy with exhaustion yet pinpricked with fear. And that’s ignoring the damp streaks under his eye sockets where the cocoa powder has been washed away.

Nightmares, then.

Slowly, just in case Stretch is still feeling jumpy, Edge makes his way over to his boyfriend. When he receives no objections, Edge stands on his tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead, tasting the strong bitterness of the cocoa powder. “go wash up, love. i’ll take care of the cocoa.”

“‘kay.” 

And with that, he leaves. No quips, no puns, not even another kiss with the sole purpose of getting Edge equally dirty. Just a quick response and a shortcut up to the bathroom. 

This must be worse of a night than he thought.

Refusing to allow himself to dwell on that, Edge gets to work on making some hot cocoa. Removing the culprit of the burnt milk scent from the stove, he grabs a more appropriately sized pot to replace it. Before moving on, he goes through the task of determining which items need to join the burnt milk pot in the sink and which ones can go back in the cupboards. Needless to say, there are only a few things that fall into that last category.

From there, the actual process of making the hot cocoa is fairly automatic, perfected after years of living in the icy cold of Snowdin. Despite sugar and cocoa being a luxury, it was always a staple in their household over the years. Drinking it would warm their magic from the inside out, and it was more filling than straight hot water. Tastier, too.

In the days soon after he had first joined the Royal Guard, Edge would come home to a hot mug left on the counter. Red would always deny making it, which is absolutely ridiculous; as if any other monster would be allowed access into their house. But Edge would never argue that hot chocolate simply doesn’t appear out of thin air. Instead, he would sit down on the couch and sip at it, relishing the few moments of peace Underfell had to offer. Before he knew it, the weariness and frustrations of a long day’s work would melt away, leaving behind the unpleasantness to be dealt with later. 

Out of all the things Edge could thank his brother for over the years, those small moments were certainly some of the most impactful.

Cocoa powder, sugar, a pinch of salt and a splash of cream are added to the saucepan to be carefully stirred. Upon further reflection, Edge scoops in some extra sugar, giving the drink the sweetness that Stretch so desperately needs tonight.

He shouldn’t have slept through this. He doesn’t understand how he could have. Granted, these days he sleeps more soundly than he used to; a necessity if he wants to get any sleep whatsoever when sharing the bed with his restless lover. Still, he would have expected that he would wake up if Stretch was having a nightmare. The days when Edge could wake up at the drop of a hat on the other side of Snowdin aren’t so long ago.

Worse yet, he decides as the shower continues to run, is the fact that Stretch didn’t wake him up himself. Has Edge done something, that Stretch can’t trust him? That he would be afraid to wake him up? Oh stars, he hopes with all of his soul that that isn’t the case.

The quiet caused by Stretch exiting the shower is the push Edge needs to get himself back in gear. With everything adequately mixed together, he pours in the rest of the milk, replacing some of it with a dash of eggnog. The finishing touch of one and a half teaspoons of vanilla extract is the last step before resuming his stirring. Thankfully, the amount of time it takes Stretch to dry off and come back downstairs is more than enough for the hot cocoa to reach the perfect drinking temperature.

Removing it from the heat, Edge goes down to his secret cupboard; if he has any hope of keeping sweets safe from Stretch _and_ Red, hiding them is a necessity. It seems his hard work has paid off, as he finds a full bag of miniature marshmallows, ready to be dumped into Stretch’s cup. 

Just in time, too. 

“Feeling any better?” Edge asks as Stretch pads his way into the kitchen. He looks it, nice and clean and snuggly dressed in his fleeciest pyjamas. Appearances can be deceiving, though.

A hesitant nod is his only answer. 

“Just give me a moment, love,” he murmurs, ignoring the stab of pain that seeing Stretch hurt always brings to his soul. “I need to grab us some mugs.”

Before he can, Stretch takes a shortcut over to him. Wordlessly, he wraps himself around Edge, leaning all of his weight into the embrace. All right. Edge manages to free one arm, stroking soothingly up and down his spine.

It appears the cocoa will have to wait.

Not that Edge minds. Not at all. Maybe Stretch isn’t ready to talk yet. That’s fine. Edge will be there once he is. For now, if this is what Stretch needs, what he wants, then let it be so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	7. Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Toys  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: nostalgia, bittersweet fluff

“hey, edge, what about this?”

Dutifully, Edge rounds the corner into the next aisle, following the sound of Stretch’s voice. Stopping for coffee beforehand might have been a mistake; adding caffeine to an already excited skeleton who is capable of teleportation makes for an especially chaotic shopping experience. Every few feet or so, he spots something new and disappears. It’s a game of hide and seek Edge hadn't been anticipating, that’s for certain.

“What is that?”

Stretch looks down at the box in his hands, smile unfaltering. A brightly coloured alpaca decorates it, the cheerful claim that it spits water emblazoned underneath. “no idea! but it _looks_ fun and it says it’s for ages five and up, so i think we’re good.”

Well, how can he argue with that? “Add it to the cart, then.” Surely, one of the children will appreciate… whatever it is. 

“alrighty!” The mystery toy joins the ever-growing pile. “what’s next on the list?”

“We don’t have any gifts for older teens or for toddlers. The baby toy section is just a few aisles over, though.”

Stretch nods, his bright smile becoming impossibly large. Rocking on his feet, he asks, “race you there?”

“Stretch, no—” Edge sighs at the now empty toy aisle. “And he’s gone.” 

Decidedly _not_ racing him — in part because it is pointless when one’s competitor is capable of shortcuts, in part because sprinting around a store with a shopping cart full of toys is a bad idea waiting to happen — Edge makes his way over. While he does, he scans the shelves in passing. He may not be taking the Santa part of Santas Anonymous as seriously as his boyfriend, but he is just as devoted to making sure that all the children in the community get to wake up to a present this year.

Then again, he doubts even Santa himself could top Stretch’s dedication right now. This morning, he had spent at least thirty minutes searching for the perfect outfit. The perfect outfit, of course, being a makeshift Santa costume. Stretch ended up wearing a pair of red track pants, a wool sweater in an almost identical shade, one of Edge’s black belts that he put over the sweater and a pair of leather boots — also borrowed from Edge. A Santa hat sits jauntily on the top of his head, the pom pom flopping around like a pendulum each time he moves. The only thing missing is the beard, something for which Edge is very grateful.

Somehow, he beats Stretch to the baby toys. Normally, that would beg the question as to what distracted him. Normally. However, as soon as he catches sight of a certain package, Edge can’t do anything but make sure that his eye lights aren’t deceiving him.

It’s not the same. Not exactly. First of all, this one is new. Clean. Perfect. It’s also more than a few years newer than the one he remembers. But the details are all there. The soft fabric is the same light grey, plush and mildly fuzzy. The carefully stitched eyes are just as large and round as he remembers, with a few white threads creating highlights that adds a sense of liveliness to the oh so familiar plushie. Most notable is the elephant’s crinkled trunk with a small loop at the end. If pulled, the box promises a sweet lullaby. Edge can still remember the melody to this day.

“there you are! somehow, i ended up in the baby food section by accident, and boy, let me tell you…” Stretch’s voice trails off, but Edge barely notices. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he says, “are you okay, edgelord?”

Still completely focused on the toy, he forgets to nod or even look at Stretch. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

“edge?”

The notes of concern in Stretch’s voice is what ends up breaking the trance. Clearing his throat, he turns around. “The elephant. I used to have it as a child.”

Like most things in the Underground, it had been found in the dumps of Waterfall. Red had snagged it for him. It one of the few items he kept from his siftings that didn’t serve an obvious purpose.

At the time, Edge had been little more than a babybones and sick to boot. Really, his brother was running out of ways to keep him calm and quiet. Not that Edge blames him; they were living on the streets and Red himself was much too young to be taking care of himself, let alone a reckless, loud and energetic child. It’s honestly a miracle that Red didn’t leave him; goodness knows it would have been the smarter choice given the universe they grew up in. But Red always stuck with Edge, and Edge with him.

One day, Red returned to him after a long day and said that he had a magic toy that would make him feel better. He had all but shoved the toy at Edge, telling him that the magic would only work if he held it and took a nap. After over a week of misery, Edge didn't question his older brother. The 'magic' was a success; it's amazing what some good sleep can do to aid in the recovery of an illness.

The small elephant, which he had ever so creatively named Ellie, was his favourite toy for years. Granted, it was pretty much his only toy, but his point still stands. At night, he would cuddle Ellie close, falling asleep to Red hushedly reading whatever he could find. Sometimes, when they felt extra sure of the fact that there was no one within earshot, Red would allow him to tug at the elephant’s trunk, the soft human lullaby bringing him closer to rest. 

On days when Red would leave him alone in their little hidey holes, Ellie was his only company. He would cling close, worrying at the soft felt ears. Ellie would listen to his whispered fears that something would happen to his brother, that he would be left alone for good. Even as a child, he knew of the dangers Red’s HP cursed him to, no matter how much he pretended to be invulnerable for Edge. 

Years later, even when he considered himself too old to sleep with a plush, he kept Ellie tucked by his pillow at night, a secret he will take to his grave. Then, as soon as he woke up, Ellie would go on the top shelf of his closet, too high up for Red to see. He probably knew. If anything, Edge would be shocked if he didn’t; the list of ‘secrets’ they kept from each other while being fully aware that the other was silently in the know is endless. 

Besides, the walls between their rooms in Snowdin were thin. Red would have had to have been dangerously intoxicated not to hear the strains of Brahms in the dead of night. Knowing his brother, he had probably even figured out the patterns of Ellie’s music, that the song would be more likely to play during the periods of time that his LV would act up.

Edge doesn’t tell Stretch all this. Now, in the middle of a store, simply isn’t the time. Stretch doesn’t need him to say anything to be able to tell that this wasn’t just any toy to Edge; he knows him too well.

Instead, he nods, understanding perfectly. He does hesitate, though, as he reaches for the box. “does that mean we buy it? i mean,” he says, scuffing his foot on the ground, “if someone got rid of it…”

Yes. That is certainly a concern. Things didn’t reach the dumps by accident; humans had to choose to throw them out. When buying presents, choosing something while knowing that it had once been discarded seems questionable.

Still…

“We’re getting it,” Edge firmly decides, fond memories running through his mind. Let Ellie bring peace and joy to a child just as it brought joy to him all those years ago in Underfell.

“sounds good.” More carefully than he did with the other toys, Stretch sets the elephant in the cart. “hey, do you wanna take a quick detour to the baby food section? you won’t _believe_ some of the stuff humans feed to their babies!”

Grateful for the change in topic, Edge smirks. “I’m sure it can’t be _that_ bad, Stretch.”

He laughs, a pleasant sound to Edge’s non-existent ears. “get ready to be proven wrong, then.” 

Oh, he is.

And if there is a second elephant plushie that magically appears in the cart by the time they get to the checkout… well, Edge pretends not to notice. It can be a pleasant surprise of his own Gyftmas morning, having his Ellie back once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway through this, I was trying to figure out what kind of plushie I wanted it to be, so I went to google images for ideas when I saw a stuffed elephant, which reminded me of Ellie, which was one of the first stuffies I was given as a baby. Somehow, she still works, which is incredible considering how often I would make her play Brahms' Lullaby.
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	8. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Mistletoe  
> Rating: T  
> Other tags/warnings: pre-relationship Spicyhoney, enemies to lovers, mild language, fluff

As soon as he gets some proof, Edge is going to kill his brother.

He is sure Red is responsible, at least partially. Some of the blame can certainly be laid on the others of their little group, considering it also occurs when Edge knows for a fact that Red is nowhere near.

But if mistletoe appears above his skull one more fucking time when he is with Stretch… someone _will_ pay.

All December, he hasn’t been able to be in the same room with the ashtray without the infernal plant showing up. It has been his own personal hell and now he wants to burn all the mistletoe within a five hundred mile radius.

Tonight has been especially insufferable. In honour of Gyftmas tomorrow morning, Papyrus had arranged a dinner for all of them. That in itself isn’t too odd; since he and Red and the brothers from Underswap arrived here, it has become a bit of a tradition. Last year, he hosted. This year, however, there has been a new addition to the activities: a group sleepover. The idea, apparently, is to save everyone the effort of coming back in the morning to open presents. Edge can respect the principle, even though part of him wants to protest about how unnecessary it is considering that the older brothers amongst their ranks can shortcut them back and forth in mere seconds. 

The problem with the sleepover — besides the fact that it was suggested by the skeleton who is the least likely to sleep at all — is that it means he is required to spend more time with his most irritating alternate. Consequently, it means more moments like this.

“stretch and edgelord,” Sans sings, dangling his feet through the gaps in the upstairs railing, “under the mistletoe. k-i-s-s-i-n-o.”

Before he is done, Edge has taken three steps back and Stretch has shortcutted halfway across the living room. Both are scowling at each other, refusing to acknowledge what could have happened. The mistletoe continues to hang by above them, all green leaves, white berries and terrible suggestions of kisses.

“Sans,” Papyrus scolds. He isn’t even within eyeshot; he has placed himself in charge of gathering bedclothes. A pulse of victory runs through Edge, only to be thoroughly quashed as he continues, “That isn’t how you spell kissing.”

“yeah, but g doesn’t rhyme with mistletoe. it’s called poetic licence.”

A pause. Then, chipper as always, Papyrus says, “I concur with your reasoning. Carry on, brother.”

Sans’ permanent grin grows. From the couch, Edge is sure his own brother’s expression is identical, if not more sinister. Edge decides to take that as his cue to stalk off to the kitchen; if he stays much longer, the chances of him summoning a weapon to destroy the mistletoe is rather high. Somehow, he doubts Papyrus would appreciate it if he ended up destroying anything else in the process.

Boiling some water, Edge decides to make himself useful and prepare drinks for everyone. That way, he has a reason to be in here and no one can accuse him of hiding. The Great and Terrible Papyrus does _not_ hide.

Even if he isn’t technically the Great and Terrible Papyrus anymore.

If there is one bright side to the whole mistletoe thing, Edge can at least say that Stretch seems just as annoyed as him about the whole situation. His alternate is faster than him at getting out of kissing range once he noticed what was hanging over them. A lot of that has to do with the fact that he can use shortcuts and Edge cannot, but his point still stands.

Although, there is another strange point of irritation in the very fact that Stretch doesn’t want to kiss him. Does the other not think him to be worth it? Certainly, Edge wouldn’t take it the wrong way if —

Wait a damn second.

Is he upset? That Stretch won’t kiss him? Because it sure seems so. 

But what does that mean?

It isn’t as though his alternate is _completely_ repulsive. Yes, he has some disgusting habits. He is messy, lazy, constantly reeks of nicotine and tells puns which rival Edge’s brother’s. Objectively speaking, he _is_ rather attractive. That could just be a slightly narcissistic assessment of Papyri as a whole, though.

Stretch does have several redeeming qualities. Under the right circumstances, these things can be, dare he say, endearing. When he wants to be, he can be rather considerate. Out of the three Judges, he is the most likely to use his abilities of observation to make sure that all is well for those he cares about. When Edge spends time with Blue, he often shares stories about all the things his older had done for them when they were younger. Stretch is loyal, which is a good trait to have in a partner…

Stars above! Where did _that_ thought come from?

Are these feelings? As in, _romantic_ feelings?

Perhaps Edge had better make some snacks to go along with the drinks. He needs some more time to think.

* * *

Stationed alone in the living room, Edge debates whether it is worth it to get up to unplug the lights on the tree. It isn’t as though he will be falling asleep any time soon. The darkness would be more peaceful, though.

Papyrus, in his preparation for tonight, had decided to separate the older brothers from the younger. A good thing, in Edge’s opinion; Gyftmas or not, Red would be a miserable terror tomorrow if he was forced to stay up all night with Blue and Papyrus.

Even though he is just as willing to stay up with those two, Edge needs escape from the… _everything_ that is Blue and Papyrus. He has no desire to play truth or dare, thank you very much. Especially not after some of the… realisations… he has made in the past few hours.

He is nearly at the point of dropping off into a light doze when the sound of footsteps near the kitchen causes him to bolt to his feet. Summoning a weapon, Edge soundlessly makes his way towards the intruder. There is no need to disturb the others.

A long shadow appears by the tree. Unsuspecting. In a single leap, Edge has a bone sword drawn inches from the intruder, whose familiar skull is illuminated.

“edge!”

Instantly, he dissipates his weapon. “What are you doing down here, ashtray?”

“i was gonna ask you the same question, edgelord,” Stretch says, hand clutching at his sternum. “remind me not to sneak up on you in a dark alley.”

“Duly noted.” No longer concerned with protecting the others in the house, Edge notices the scattering of new boxes around Stretch’s feet. “What are those?”

“nothing.” Edge raises a brow, waiting. As soon as he puts together that he won’t take that bullshit of an answer, Stretch explains, “it’s a silly little tradition of mine. ever since we were kids, i’ve always add a few surprise gifts for blue to wake up to. sans too, apparently.”

There is an expression of apology in his eye lights. Most likely, it is because Red doesn’t do the same for him, not that it matters to Edge. Since arriving to this universe, he and his brother have already been able to get each other so many more gifts than they had back home. It’s fine.

“And Sans didn’t feel like joining you because?”

“eh, blue and paps are less likely to notice if only one of us came down. and i can carry more.”

“Of course.”

“yeah.” After shuffling the presents into place, Stretch straightens up. “well. i should probably go back upstairs. wouldn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

The next thing out of his mouth is just as much a shock to Edge as it must be to Stretch.

“Stay.”

A beat passes. 

Then another. 

Edge coughs, trying to clear some of the awkwardness away. “If you’d like, I mean. I won’t be able to sleep for a bit longer, anyway.”

He expects Stretch to leave, maybe making a quick joke. That’s what should happen. Instead, he slowly nods, gesturing to the couch. Edge nods back, leading the way. 

Pushing aside the various pillows and blankets Papyrus insisted he take down with him, Edge creates enough space for the both of them to sit down comfortably. There is a safe space in the middle, an intangible barrier. 

Or, at least there was.

Rather than do the normal thing, Stretch seats himself right beside Edge, uncaring of their proximity. Edge finds he doesn’t mind much, either.

Especially not when he tilts his head upwards.

Sometime during the night, the mistletoe had migrated once more. This time, though, there are no brothers to mock them. There is no pressure whatsoever. Even as Stretch’s gaze follows his towards the ceiling, Edge knows that they could simply ignore it.

But he doesn’t want to.

Like an overly cliché holiday romance, the two of them start leaning closer and closer. Edge can smell the sweetness of honey and candy canes on Stretch’s breath, overpowering any remnants of cigarettes. He can feel Stretch’s cheeks warm as they colour to a soft, golden flush. The way he is holding his breath as their mouths draw nearer and nearer until —

* * *

Edge wakes up, one of those rare occasions where the transition from sleep to wakefulness is slow and blissful. Images from his dream — or more accurately, his memories of last year — fade into oblivion. The room is dark other than the sweet paleness of Stretch’s eye lights. They twinkle beautifully as they illuminate the small sprig of mistletoe held playfully above the two of them.

Smiling, he sits up to meet Stretch halfway for a deep, searching kiss. Ah, this is an excellent way to wake up, far better than any alarm.

“Good morning,” he purrs, resting their foreheads together and relishing the shiver his voice draws from Stretch. “How early did you wake up to plan this?”

“eh, couldn’t sleep last night. thought this would be fun.” Before Edge has time to feel concern about that first statement, he reaches over to place the mistletoe on the nightstand and adds, “besides, i got a call.” After an appropriately dramatic pause, Stretch delivers the explanation. “we’re back home for the day.”

This is some kind of wordplay, Edge knows it. But as for what, exactly, his boyfriend means, he has no clue whatsoever. “I’m sorry?”

“we’re _snowed in._ ”

“Ugh. It’s too early for this.” 

Complaints about wordplay aside, Edge knows there is one thing he has to do. He grabs the mistletoe from the nightstand, savouring the growing grin of realisation on Stretch’s face.

They might as well take advantage of the day off, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	9. Baking Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Cookies/Baking  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: mild language, fluff, humour

“Stars above, Stretch! I turned my back for three seconds!”

Grinning sheepishly at the mixing bowl full of shattered eggshells, Stretch explains, “i thought it’d be cool.”

Edge resists the urge to groan and cradle his skull in his hands. It would only go to discourage his boyfriend, who is genuinely trying, despite how it looks. They started this afternoon with the knowledge that Edge would have to teach Stretch how to make cookies. By this point, he knows Stretch rarely spends time in the kitchen. He knows that.

But if there was ever a time in which Edge fully understands why Blue has a “no Papy in the kitchen unless he’s cleaning” rule, it is now. And it isn't just because Blue is controlling over his kitchen in general.

Ginger cookies were supposed to be a good introduction to baking together. As recipes go, this one is fairly uncomplicated and rather forgiving; in Underfell, he had made substitutions out of necessity, such as halving the sugar, and they still turned out perfectly. Additionally, there is something nice and seasonally appropriate about a nice quadruple batch of warm ginger cookies. It was supposed to be fun.

A recurring thought since starting has been _how? Just… how?_ Stretch has a near uncanny ability to cause culinary disasters which Edge barely manages to rectify. Considering how baking is essentially edible chemistry, he would think that his scientifically minded boyfriend would be able to figure it out easily enough. He was wrong. Although to be fair, Stretch's field of choice is physics. Anytime Edge has seen him do anything related to chemistry, explosions were involved. That would be very on-brand right now.

Edge stands by as Stretch finishes fishing each itsy bitsy piece of eggshell out from the bowl. Hopefully, he has gotten them all; it would be disappointing to have wasted these past five minutes if some still remained as a crunchy surprise for later.

"Next time, perhaps you should try cracking the egg with _both_ hands."

"but how else will i be able to get it right? practice makes perfect, babe."

Edge can't tell if he is joking or if he is being completely earnest. That’s why he takes grabs a carton and slides it across the counter. “Next up, we need three cups of molasses. You can do that, and I’ll work on sifting the dry ingredients together.”

“roger that!”

Dragging the smaller bowl of flour, baking soda, salt and spices closer, Edge cannot help but smile as Stretch determinedly sticks his tongue out, trying to hasten the flow of the molasses to no avail. With confidence, Edge can say there is no way disaster can arise from this task.

Until he hears Stretch sputtering, that is.

By this point, Edge had finished with the dry ingredients. In the meantime, he has been working on clearing up more room for rolling out the cookies. Upon Stretch’s request, he had been sharing about his week. Halfway through his story about the most recent gremlin activity his brother has him subjected to, the sound of Stretch’s disgust cuts him off.

At first glance, nothing is obviously wrong. All needed molasses appears to be in the bowl of wet ingredients where it belongs. There are no spills on the counter; only a few sticky smudges where Stretch put down the measuring cup. The only strange part about this situation is an extra spoon Edge doesn’t remember taking out, coated in molasses.

Oh no.

This time, Edge can’t help but scrub a hand tiredly over his eye sockets. “Why the _fuck_ would you try to taste molasses?”

Stretch doesn’t answer, too busy regretting his life decisions. Ever the helpful boyfriend, Edge walks to grab him a glass of eggnog. Hopefully, it will be better at washing away the aftertaste of swallowing an entire fucking spoonful of molasses than just water.

Coughing, Stretch takes the cup into his hands. “you’re the best, babe.” Instead of drinking the eggnog, though, he leans forward to Edge and —

“No,” he says firmly, stepping back with his hand out, pushing Stretch’s face away from his own.

“hey!” His tone is perfectly indignant. However, the amused grin tells Edge that his instincts were perfectly justified.

“I’m not that stupid. No kissing until you brush your teeth.” He has no desire to consume secondhand molasses. Even if it means foregoing kisses from Stretch.

“spoilsport.”

From there on out, everything goes a lot smoother. Yes, there is some struggling once Stretch starts kneading his half of the dough, but Edge can’t blame him; navigating the stickiness without getting the equivalent of ten cookies stuck between their joints is a difficult task. More importantly, though, is the fact that Stretch seems more confident in his actions. He is back to joking around with Edge, trying to sneak his way into a kiss because “really, edgelord, the nog dealt with all the molasses already.” As if Edge wouldn’t notice the way he keeps running his tongue over his teeth and grimacing.

Stars, he loves this brat.

Rocking eagerly on his toes as Edge double-checks the consistency of the cookie dough, Stretch asks, “so where are the cookie cutters?”

“It’s not that kind of ginger cookie.” He divvies up enough dough for the first batch, placing the remains in the fridge for now. “Actually,” he adds thoughtfully, “it would be more accurate to call it a molasses cookie. There’s only a little bit of ginger in it, after all.”

Almost immediately, Stretch pulls out the best weapon in his arsenal against Edge: the sweetest, most pleading of puppy eyes.

Edge sighs. “Check the second drawer from the bottom over there. Choose the smallest size only; the cookies won’t bake properly otherwise.”

Stretch’s lovely smile makes it worth it, even if it means Edge will have to readjust things on the fly. Perhaps if he bakes the cookies for a few minutes longer than called for, then throws them in the freezer, the end results might be crispy enough to decorate. Worst case scenario, the first batch is an entire failure. That still leaves them with three more batches to do properly.

Before Edge knows it, the last of the cookies are in the oven. The other batches are scattered around the kitchen, cooling racks placed wherever they could find space. Amazingly, only two cookies have disappeared — so far.

“what’s next?” Stretch asks, his eye lights bright and wide with eagerness. 

“Cleanup.” As expected, this earns an overly dramatic groan. Edge doesn’t bother hiding his smirk as he says, “Oh, do you not want to help? I suppose I will have to clean the bowl and spoon myself.”

Slowly scraping up some of the dough stuck inside the bowl, he watches in amusement as the meaning of his words begins to click in for Stretch. 

“gimme that!”

Right away, Edge darts to the side and hides the bowl behind his back. “Manners, love. What do you say?”

Completely deadpan, Stretch threatens, “i will put replace your toothpaste with molasses.” Edge can’t help but snort in amusement. Evidently, that is enough to break his façade. “and pretty please with sugar on top.”

“That’s better. Now,” he says as Stretch begins digging in, “are you feeling brave enough to try making icing, or are we going to make a stop to the store?”

Because, despite this being the most anarchic baking experience in his life, Edge cannot deny that both of them thoroughly enjoyed themselves. And, regardless of Stretch's choice, Edge is excited to prolong the fun with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	10. Snowballs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Snowballs  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: fluff

Not for the first time in his life, Stretch has come to a decision: being sick is the _worst_.

Sure, there are some small advantages. It gives him a legitimate excuse to nap, and those naps are often more fulfilling. Plus, he can sometimes take advantage of his poor health to wheedle his brother or Edge into doing something special for him. Waking up to Edge’s special occasion waffles certainly makes the fact that his bones feel like they are burning hotter than the lava in Hotland a lot more tolerable.

The novelty, however, wears off pretty quickly. Obviously, the whole physical symptoms thing is pretty crappy. Even if he is a self-proclaimed lazybones, there are times when he wants to get up and do something with his life. Then, there is the whole smothering problem. Blue is definitely the most notorious for this, to the point where Stretch can’t do so much as sniffle once without him breaking out the thermometer and chicken noodle soup. 

Not that Edge is much better. He doesn’t have any solid proof, but Stretch is pretty sure it’s part of his Underfell upbringing acting up. Edge’s (over)protectiveness is heavily fueled by worry. Worry for Stretch, for his safety. In a world where it’s a constant battle to stay alive, something like illness would have been another liability. So, yeah. Stretch gets it, even if it’s fucking annoying.

But right now, Edge and Blue aren’t the problem. It has officially been over half a week since he has gotten sick, and he is just so done with it all.

Sulkily, Stretch rolls over on the couch and stares out the window. Big, fluffy snowflakes slowly make their way to the ground, mocking him. The weather has been real screwy lately. Last week, it got really warm for a few days, above freezing. Then, right after the snow had started to melt, they had a sudden cold snap, so everything became terribly icy and compacted. This was unfortunate for several reasons. First of all, it made the roads and sidewalks a slippery mess. What really has been bugging Stretch — and probably a lot of the kiddos, to be honest — is the fact that it just didn’t work for making snowballs and forts and snowmen. That’s half the fun of snow!

Of course, as soon as Stretch became sick, there has been nothing but perfect snowball weather! It doesn’t matter if he _feels_ fine; he is at that point of almost recovery where he’s just so done with the whole thing, even if his body hasn’t gotten the memo. His desire to go outside and play in the snow and shove his chilly hands under Edge’s scarf on the back of his neck and see if he manages to hold back a high pitched shriek doesn’t get any say in the matter. All it would do is worsen his condition. Which, sadly, would mean even more time stuck inside doing nothing. 

He really doesn’t want that.

Reluctantly, Stretch turns down the volume of whatever holiday movie is playing. Edge won’t be home for at least another hour. Maybe if he adds another nap to his growing record, it will feel like he will be back sooner.

* * *

Two garbage bins in hand, Edge stations himself beside the couch in wait.

His love is a great many deal of things, but subtle isn’t exactly one of them. Stretch’s frustrations are quite obvious. The way he glares at the thermometer each time Edge takes his temperature, going cross-eyed as he silently — and unsuccessfully — wills the number to stay low. The overly loud sigh Edge could hear halfway across the house when the weatherman cheerily stated that it is the perfect time for children to go outside and play. The woeful look he sent Edge’s way last night when the contestants on the baking show they were watching were asked to make a twist on snowball cookies.

It didn’t take Edge too long to figure out what was bothering Stretch this time.

Slowly, Stretch begins to stir. Edge doesn’t bother trying to mask his soft expression. Even if he isn’t at one hundred percent yet, his boyfriend is already starting to look a lot better. The colour to his bones is back to normal, no longer having the harsh contrast between a dull, sickly white and a feverishly blotchy orange. For the first time in days, he actually looks well-rested. 

He’s beautiful.

Even if his skull soon twists into a scowl as he takes in the scene around them.

“how many times have i told you,” he says, pointing accusingly at the garbage bins, “i’m _fine."_ Despite himself, Edge raises a brow, all but daring him to have his temperature checked again. Stretch groans, rubbing at his eyes. “fine. but i’m not nauseous.”

“No, no you aren’t,” Edge agrees. Stretch lightens up, which he promptly ruins by adding, “Still, you do have a fever and unless I’m mistaken, there are a great deal more used tissues on the table than when I left you this morning.”

“please tell me there’s a but coming.”

He nods. “You’re obviously bored, love.” 

After a pause for a snarky remark that doesn’t come, Edge holds up one of the garbage bins so that Stretch can take a proper look inside. Filled to the brim with paper balls made from holiday sales flyers, old newspapers, printer paper, and even some wrapping paper, there should be more than enough to make this worth it, he hopes. Stretch’s eyes widen as he takes it in. 

“I know it’s not the same as the real thing, but I thought you might want to —”

Before he can finish, Edge finds himself with two arms full of tall skeleton. It begs the question as to whether Stretch actually leapt up from the couch or whether he teleported the few inches over.

“Is this a yes, then?”

“of course it is!” Stretch buzzes a sloppy kiss to his cheek before squirming up and out of their surprise embrace. Edge’s hands are swatted away the moment Stretch begins to wobble. “don’t you dare,” he warns. “i just haven’t made myself vertical in a while. now what are the rules?”

Standing to his own feet, Edge says, “Standard snowball fight procedure. First one to get hit loses. Boundaries are the interior of the house, except for the basement; that’s where I put anything I was worried about breaking. We each get our own bucket of ‘snowballs’ to start, but after that, anything goes.”

“so i can chuck a pillow at you and it counts?” Stretch asks, grinning teasingly.

“Any paper snowball counts,” he amends. Then, more cautiously, Edge adds, “We can use magic as well.” The silent request that Stretch doesn’t overdo it hangs heavy in the air. He nods, putting his hands overtop of Edge’s. 

“got it. should we start a timer to give us time to work out our plans?”

“Three minutes.”

Stretch snags one of the bins. “hope you’re ready to lose, edgelord. i’ve been on house arrest all week —” Edge rolls his eyes. Ridiculously dramatic as always, his Stretch. “— which means i’ve had the time to work out all the escape routes.” He teleports away, denying Edge the chance at competitive banter. Ah, well. This is the happiest and most energetic Stretch has been in days.

Now, all Edge has to do is wait and see if Stretch is able to live up to his promised victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	11. Naughty or Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Naughty or Nice  
> Rating: E  
> Other tags/warnings: nsfw, smut, humour, teasing

Driving home from work, Edge taps his fingers on the steering wheel. Today has been one of those days in which he has been counting down the hours to return home and spend time with Stretch. All he wants is a quiet night together. 

Perhaps they could spend time in front of the fire, cozy with pillows and eggnog. Or, if Stretch would be willing to wait a bit, Edge could make some mulled wine to share. Edge knows that Stretch had started a new book recently. Provided that he hasn’t finished it, maybe they could read to each other, soft instrumentals playing in the background. Or they could just stay cuddled close, whispering to the other until the wee hours of the night.

No matter what they end up doing, Edge is sure he will thoroughly enjoy himself.

He unlocks the front door. As it opens, Edge is greeted by the welcome sight of Stretch… what the hell kind of fever dream is this?

The monster in front of him is most certainly Stretch. There is no doubt whatsoever regarding that. The outfit he is wearing, however… Edge has no words.

As a whole, Edge rarely cares what Stretch is (or isn’t) wearing. It really isn’t any of his business. This is what he tries to remind himself as he slowly closes the door behind them; whatever this is, it isn’t for strange eyes to see.

Colour-wise, every sign indicates to it being a Santa Claus inspired outfit. The main parts are a velvety red, surrounded by fluffy accents which match the snow outside. The cut of the outfit? Not so much, unless Santa spends the rest of his year moonlighting at some kind of strip club. Which, if he does, good for him. It’s just strange that Edge wouldn’t have discovered that particular bit of lore sooner.

Thoroughly perplexed, Edge finds he can do nothing but stare at his boyfriend, who is slowly — too slowly — sauntering forward. The outfit makes it so his eyes are magnetically drawn to that gorgeous pale, glossy pelvis.

“ho ho ho. come and sit on my lap.” Stretch runs his hands up his mostly bare femurs, the touch lingering. “i’ve got a special present for you. how ‘bout you unwrap mine, and i’ll unwrap yours.” He winks, further clarifying the fact that, yes, these are indeed holiday-themed innuendos.

Hoping to keep his tone cool and unaffected, Edge says, “Are you actually trying to turn me on with this? Because, if so, I have some bad news for you.”

Based on the hooded yet assessing look sent his way, lingering at the area of Edge’s belt, it is safe to say that he didn’t manage. Edge can feel his face heating up to match the newly stirring magic in his pelvis. “mhm. you keep telling yourself that. why don’t we take this elsewhere?”

Offering no resistance, Edge trails behind Stretch, following him all the way up to the bedroom. Gingerbread and peppermint scented candles are scattered around the room; apparently, Stretch was feeling quite devoted to making sure every single part of this was on theme. No other lighting is needed, Edge notices as he is pushed onto the bed. The golden flames illuminate his love in all the right ways.

“babe,” he starts, twirling the pompom on the end of his hat, “you’ve just been so nice to me all year.”

“Because I love you.”

It is a struggle not to laugh as Stretch pouts because of his interruption. “edge. stop ruining my moment. now,” he says, lowering his voice seductively. Edge swallows with a dry click. “as i was saying, you’ve been oh so nice this year, but i was thinking… why don’t we try being a little _naughtier_?”

Oh, how tempting the offer is. “But what about our presents? People on the naughty list don’t get any.”

Stretch laughs, a promising sound. “don’t you worry, sweetheart.” He closes the distance between them, causing Edge to arch his spine backward as Stretch leans down for a heated kiss. Edge can feel the warm gusts of breath at the side of his skull as he croons, “this _is_ the present. gyftmas will be coming sooner than expected.”

Oh, Edge hopes so. “In that case, then, I believe I was offered the chance to sit on your lap.”

“oh honey, this is a sleigh you can ride whenever you like.”

Any complaints regarding Stretch’s unending puns are wiped completely from his mind as Stretch sits down on the bed. What little of the coat he is wearing gets pushed to the side, revealing more of that tantalizing spine. Without much thought to the matter, Edge climbs on top of him, hissing through his teeth at even that tiny bit of glorious friction.

Pelvises rocking against each other, Edge relishes in Stretch’s soft moans, in the way his hands run over his ribcage before traveling back down to Edge’s hips to stabilize him. His magic is aching to form as he grinds against the hardness of Stretch’s, but he wants to draw this out. He needs to.

Breathlessly, Stretch tugs at the collar of Edge’s shirt. “can i?”

“Unwrap me,” he demands, using Stretch’s words against him.

“gladly!”

Clothing is tossed on the floor, Stretch’s hat at the very top of the pile. Barebones, there is nothing blocking the sensation of the lovely heat of Stretch’s magic against his own. Blunt fingers press tighter against his hips. Edge responds by wrapping his arms firmly around him and letting his pussy coalesce into existence. There is an immediate sense of relief, pleasure building at the base of his spine as he allows himself to give in. Good isn’t nearly enough to describe it.

“edge,” Stretch groans, hips bucking up as much as they can. He sounds so close already.

“Let me.” 

Reaching down between them, Edge carefully guides Stretch’s cock between his folds. Mercifully, Stretch is letting him control this, trembling underneath him in his restraint. It makes the pinch of pain he feels more bearable; in retrospect, he should have prepped more. The sight of the pure bliss on Stretch’s face as he slowly slides down, though, distracts from it, as does the perfectly unscarred thumb rubbing steady circles around his clit.

Panting, Edge continues to take charge of the pace. Stretch keeps getting louder and louder, not bothering to smother any of his delightful sounds. Sweat pours down their skulls, shining under the candlelight. Stretch’s hands are restless, fondling bone wherever he can reach.

Edge wouldn’t have it any other way.

Too soon, they reach their climaxes. Pity; Edge would have greatly enjoyed doing this all night. Beneath him, Stretch sags down, sprawling bonelessly across the bed. Rolling off him, Edge says, “We should clean up, love.”

Stretch reaches out for him, all blissed out exhaustion. “five minutes?”

“I suppose that can be arranged.”

Pulling his love close against his side, Edge closes his eyes. As much as Stretch claimed that they were being naughty, this was rather a nice surprise. Well, minus the sexy Santa cosplay.

Edge would much rather have Stretch as himself, any day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


	12. Opening Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Opening Gifts  
> Rating: G  
> Other tags/warnings: fluff, mild language

With only a small pile of presents separating them, Edge watches, fully enthralled, as Stretch hovers indecisively between the largest box and a strangely shaped package.

In honour of their first Gyftmas together as a couple, they decided to have their own small gift ceremony before going with the full family to do it. This way, he and Stretch can have some quiet time together where they can be as gushy and sweet as they want.

First thing this morning, Edge made sure Red was out of the house. The chance to harass Sans was apparently not very hard to resist. That reminds him; he owes Papyrus an apology. In any case, he and Stretch have the house to themselves, no possibilities of interruptions to their nice intimate moment. 

Plus, they agreed to meet early this morning. Early enough, in fact, that they can have a different kind of intimate moment once they are done with the presents.

Stretch is still in his pyjamas, all sleepy delight. At his request, Edge had been the first to open his gifts. Seeing Edge's pleasure at what was inside helped ease some anxiety he didn't even realise Stretch was experiencing. Not that Stretch would have seen anything different. There are very few things he would actively dislike getting from Stretch, and most of them would be a joke anyway. The fact that Stretch loves him will always be a gift in and of itself. Messily wrapped packages are simply a bonus.

Besides, there is something Edge understands about the desire to watch someone open a present you gave them. 

A cup of eggnog filled coffee sits beside Stretch, completely ignored in favour of the modest pile of boxes and bags between them. Finally, Stretch chooses the largest box. Unlike how Edge neatly peeled off each piece of tape, he shreds through the wrapping.

“What did this paper ever do to you, love?” Edge teases, taking a sip of his own coffee.

Straight-faced, Stretch throws a large piece at Edge’s face. “it got in the way of my present.”

“Ah, yes. The most serious of offenses.”

The box itself doesn’t fare much better. Then again, Edge may have cheated, just a little bit; the amusement of seeing Stretch’s reaction to the ugly sweater patterned duct tape made covering every inch of cardboard completely worth it.

“you’re a brat, you know that?”

“Considering how your most earnest attempts at wrapping involve depleting the world’s supply of scotch tape, you can’t talk. I just decided to make your present extra festive, just for you.”

“gee,” Stretch mutters dryly, trying to hide a smile, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

A huff is the only answer to that, as Stretch is back to finding a way into his present. Noticeably enough, he doesn’t summon a bone construct or grab a knife to work his way through the packaging. Likely, he is too worried about wreaking something.

This is easily Edge’s favourite part of Gyftmas. The pure gratification of knowing he did something to make those he cares about happy. Right now, when he is close enough to mentally document every gasp of wonder, each tender smile, the feeling is even stronger.

Realisation sparks through Stretch once he successfully opens the box. Equally reverent and excited, he picks up one of the jumbo bottles of specialty honey. As his pale eye lights scan the label, Edge holds back the comment that he is vibrating like a temmie. It wouldn’t be appreciated.

Besides, he doesn’t want anything to bring an end to his boyfriend’s delight.

Arms raised, Stretch is obviously torn between hugging him and the honey. Edge doesn’t force him to make the decision, stepping over the few remaining gifts to gather him close to his chest, the bottles squished between them. 

Laughing, Stretch tilts his head up. “i thought they didn’t make these ones anymore!”

“Let’s just say that I can be very persuasive when I want.”

“yeah, yeah, you big teddy bear.” He nuzzles closer for a few seconds. Then, the appeal of the presents takes over once more.

The next few gifts earn a less dramatic reaction, although it is clear that his enthusiasm is just as strong. Some soft new hoodies with science puns, more of his favourite sweets. With each grin and ‘thank you’, Edge’s soul grows warmer.

Only one gift remains: the strangely shaped one. “Careful,” Edge warns as he hands it over. Stretch gives him a curious look, but he refuses to elaborate. Any explanation, he feels, would ruin the surprise. 

Ever trusting, Stretch listens. He moves slowly, delicately, as he unwraps it. Every once in a while, he looks up at Edge, as though for reassurance. Edge just nods, urging him to continue. Out of all the presents, he _needs_ to see how Stretch feels about this one. The others, it was obvious he would enjoy. This one, though…

Well, Edge can certainly better understand his boyfriend’s anxieties when he was the one opening his gifts.

With most of the gift unwrapped, Stretch sets it aside, quietly. The lack of response brings a pulse of dread to his soul. Edge was sure that his brother wouldn’t jeopardise him for this type of thing, but who is he to try and understand the inner workings of Red’s mind? It wouldn’t be the first cruel practical joke he has played on him over the years, and it absolutely wouldn’t be the last.

“Stretch, I —”

Any apologies are interrupted by Stretch, who practically leaps into Edge’s lap. Not that he is complaining one bit. Especially not when he starts peppering kisses from his cervical vertebrae all the way up to his mouth, lingering there.

“I take it you like it, then?”

“like it?” He pauses to kiss him once more on the cheek. “babe, how did you even know i wanted this?”

“I have my ways.”

“so, red told you.”

Edge doesn’t bother denying it. Even now, he isn’t exactly sure what he bought Stretch, other than it is apparently some important component to a project he is working on. Both him and Stretch that the only way he could have known was through talking to one of the Sanses; even if Stretch had mentioned needing it, the chances of Edge getting it right without help were on the lower end of the scale.

“I suppose some breakfast is in order.” Edge starts to get up, nudging Stretch off his lap, when his soul is turned blue.

“Wait.” 

Settling back down, Edge says, “Yes?”

“i’ve, uh, got one more gift for you.” Stretch digs in the pocket of his pyjamas as he continues, "technically, i should be getting on one knee for this —"

"Stretch!"

"— but i'm pretty comfy right here. so, edge?” He holds up a small box of black velvet. “i love you so much and i want to spend every gyftmas, every day of the rest of my life with you. will you marry me?”

“Yes!” _Always yes._

Stretch giggles as Edge traps him into another kiss. “babe, you didn’t let me show you the ring.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” It’s from Stretch, after all. Besides, this is already the best Gyftmas present he could ever imagine: the promise to spend the rest of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me longer than I wanted (thanks migraines and severe allergic reactions for not allowing me to write the past few nights), but we ended on a nice soft note. 
> 
> I hope you all have a good holiday season!
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


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